international no-diet day!

May 6, 2009 at 8:50 pm (Uncategorized)

It was. And I didn’t buy a copy of Lessons from the Fat-o-sphere from Powells because I want to support my local indie bookstore. (Even if that means asking them to order it or whatever.) Anyway.

So. International No Diet Day. I am all in favor of this, as you well know, because diets make people miserable. And unhealthy. And, often, fatter than they started out. Pointless and awful. So today, as with every other day, I ate like I wasn’t on a diet.

I had a Lunabar for breakfast, because I needed something in my stomach before I went with my mom to her doctor’s appointment. With a cup of iced coffee – my dad makes it and just stores it in the fridge and it’s great. And strong. After the appointment, Mom and I went to Friendly’s for lunch. Neither of us finished our food because we were full. She had a bacon cheeseburger and I had some sort of barbecue chicken melt sandwich thing. After work, my sister picked me up and wanted to go get “comfort food,” because she’s been having a rotten week. So we went to Wendy’s and shared some fries and a Frosty. And then for dinner we had steamed asparagus and some grilled chicken and baby spinach. I put Caesar dressing on mine. And I enjoyed every bite, because it was light and what I wanted after all that grease. But I didn’t feel like I was “being good” or “making up for” what I’d eaten before. I just… needed some fiber. And green vegetables. And then I frosted the cupcakes I made yesterday and had one with a whole bunch of strawberries.

I am full still. And happy. And utterly at peace, because there are so many good things to eat in the world. Because I’m not denying myself what I want to eat when there’s no good reason, I’m not worried about missing out. There are more cupcakes downstairs. I doubt I’ll eat them all tonight in a fit of shame and self-loathing. But I might have one for breakfast tomorrow. I might eat some fried dough at the fair this weekend. I might get some sushi before the concert my BFF and I are going to. I don’t know. Possibilities are great. And when I’m not counting calories I have so much room in my head for other stuff.


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quick link

May 3, 2009 at 9:27 pm (Uncategorized)

Plus-size fashion story from the LA Times, from the start of March. Link from The Pretty Pear, whose archives I am going through. It was interesting to read the perspective of those on the other side of the issue – that is, the people making and selling the clothes rather than those of us trying to buy them.

I tried on about ten things at Target today and came home with two. I still have no idea what I’m going to wear at work all summer; my “uniform” of casual ribbed tank tops and hippie skirts isn’t really appropriate for my job.

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Fat hatred in my superhero movie?

May 2, 2009 at 12:08 am (Uncategorized)

You don’t say!

I will be cutting the rest of this post for spoilers, so if you haven’t seen X-Men Origins: Wolverine yet and don’t want to know anything (because you’re not a rabid fangirl like me), don’t click. Read the rest of this entry »

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this post took a left turn somewhere

April 21, 2009 at 11:25 pm (Uncategorized)

Easter was a couple of weeks ago, right. (Which I typed as “Eatser” at first.) And my cousin and her family came up. Technically she’s Dad’s cousin’s daughter, which makes her my second cousin? I think? Anyway, her side of the family has the genes for fatitude. My grandfather was fat, his sister is fat and an amaaaazing cook. None of the women or men on that side are skinny. At the smallest, they look simply average.

So my cousin walks in and the first thing she says to me is “You lost so much weight!” We only see each other at Thanksgiving and Easter, when I’ve managed to make it home for Easter. So I guess it IS noticeable. Then again, I was also wearing a short-sleeved top instead of a sweater and tank top.

Why do I do that? Why do I freak out about losing weight? Because so much of my journey towards accepting my own fat and becoming an activist for size acceptance has had to do with accepting that this is the body I have. And it deeply unsettles me that I’m losing that body, that it’s disappearing. Not only because I’m vehemently anti-diet but also because it makes me feel like a traitor to the cause. Which, I haven’t BEEN dieting. And I haven’t noticed the weight loss, as I’ve mentioned before. It’s creepy. And it wouldn’t make me a traitor. Plenty of SA folks are smaller than me; the two best examples I can think of are Fillyjonk and Sweet Machine at Shapely Prose, who are both not actually fat as far as I can remember. Hell, I have another 100 pounds before I hit the top end of the “normal” range for my height according to BMI. Why worry about this now?

Because I am paranoid, and I put far more stringent standards on myself than on anyone else. This is true in pretty much all areas of my life – it’s something I work on with my counselor – and it only makes sense that it happens here too. As much sense as the slightly bent workings of a malfunctioning brain can make, anyway.

[This is not to value or devalue the neurotypical experience; I just have problems struggling with my own diagnosed depression even on technical good days and this is the best way I can think of to talk about it.]

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fat girl

March 22, 2009 at 7:06 pm (Uncategorized)

Today was good. I went to the annual bulb show at a local college with my dad and sister, got a giant pizza slice for lunch and some concert tickets for me and my BFF, and took the dog on a nice walk. All in all a good day.

Then my mom and sister got in a fight at dinner. Which happens, because my sister is seventeen and extra sensitive, and they both stormed off. Dad and I shrugged and kept eating, and Mom came back still mad and decided she needed to snipe at us too for just sitting there. She looked at me and went “Shut up, fat girl.

And… I had to hold back a laugh. Now, Mom is getting over being sick. She’s always either getting sick, sick, or getting better, but the in-between phases are almost always marked by being incredibly nasty and mean. And apparently the worst thing she could come up with to call me was “fat girl.” And… it truly, honestly didn’t hurt. Yeah, I AM A FAT GIRL. Not a news flash. So I was able to let that roll off me. Now, it’s a sign of how messed up she is that that’s what she goes for, but I’m glad it didn’t bother me.

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March 21, 2009 at 11:17 pm (Uncategorized)

So my mom came in and asked for some of my chocolate, as she often does. I had a bag with a few Dove pieces in it and offered it to her, and she said she’d take two. “Take all of them, I can just get more.” And she says “You don’t need to get more.”

I had a very mild freakout about that just now, eating the rest that were in the bag before I realized what I was doing. I feel much better when I have junk food around and can self-regulate, when I don’t have to worry about being shamed or scolded like I still get in the kitchen, when I know I can get more and not worry about it. Sometimes I hate living at home.

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March 10, 2009 at 10:42 pm (Uncategorized)

I finally got a chance to talk to the ballet teacher after class – previously she’s been occupied with other people, and two weeks we didn’t have class (school vacation and then inclement weather) – about my heels not touching. That’s one of the things she corrects me on, usually, not having my heels together in first position. Turns out? It’s not so much my calves of steel or big thighs that prevent my heels from getting close. It’s my knees hyperextending – they actually flex backwards a little when I have my legs straight, which pushes my feet forwards and away from each other in that position. So it’s not about the fat at all. Crazy.

In other news: I HAVE A JOB. It’s only a few hours in the afternoon, but I’m grateful to have it in this economy.

In other other news: (cut for excessive rambling) Read the rest of this entry »

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ballet and belly

February 3, 2009 at 11:20 am (Uncategorized)

The belly thing first. So we were all watching the Super Bowl on Sunday, and my sister was exhausted after an eight-hour shift at the diner where she works. So she was snuggled up to me with her head on my chest and one hand on my belly. And out of the blue she goes “I like your belly.” And I went :DDD because that’s something I didn’t expect to hear from my teenage sister.

As for ballet: well, I took it for four years when I was little, and one of those obnoxious girls who wouldn’t wear anything but pink or purple. And then I saw an article about the adult beginners’ ballet class at the local studio. So I signed up, somewhat trepidatious because… I don’t look like a ballerina. Except maybe one of those hippos from the Dance of the Hours segment in Fantasia. (They’re awesome, but you get my point.)

But it was awesome. Actually my first feeling was one of total disorientation, because there are some things that are exactly the same – the ivy painted over the mirrors, the curtains on the windows – and some that are completely different. Also I’m not sure how different things look simply because my eye line is about a foot and a half higher than it used to be. But so much of what I used to know came back. Turning out from the hip, keeping the back straight, the same little snippets of music repeated over and over, the French terms that I actually know now what they mean.

And luckily it was a very welcoming environment. The crowd ranged from high school girls to women old enough to be my mother, and some of them were in leotards and some were in workout gear. I was definitely the fattest one there, but I had the prior experience. And I got complimented on my flexibility. The teacher was also very kind; the martinet who ran the school when I went there as a weester retired, and this woman was really nice. She didn’t seem to mind that I physically can’t get my heels together for a first position given the size of my thighs, and I didn’t feel singled out for anything. Well, maybe for the jumping at the end, but that had more to do with the fact that I need more support for my 44Ds than a regular bra if I’m going to be bouncing all over the place.

I came home tired – I really am out of shape, but this was a good way to get moving without killing myself. And today my hips are awfully sore. But I can’t wait to go back next week.

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before and after

January 30, 2009 at 9:40 pm (Uncategorized)

So I’d been meaning to write about this for a while, but I didn’t because I’m a space case who needs a to-do list to remind her to shower these days. But this post at Fatshionista by the very clever Lesley made me actually click over to WordPress. So.

I am not a huge fan of having photographs taken of myself. I think this is because I look larger than I do in the mirror, what with three dimensions being flattened to two. And most pictures of me recently have been taken at the middle or end of shenanigans with friends, when I am either drunk or greasy from lack of sleep. Not the most attractive state for anybody.

My friend Kait is a photographer and has recently been revamping/restarting her business, with hopes of getting it off the ground soon. And she was looking for test models. And because I have loads of free time I volunteered. The actual modeling was sort of hilarious because it was about eighteen degrees out and we both kept slipping in the snow.

When she uploaded the pictures, though, I was floored. I actually looked… pretty. Holy crap. It was almost magical, seeing myself as the subject and attention of a gaze that made me look beautiful instead of some vaguely sweaty blob in yesterday’s shirt. And there’s a lot to be said about the problems of valuing one’s appearance and blah blah male gaze, but… this was pretty novel for me, and I can’t say I hated it.

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January 10, 2009 at 4:45 pm (Uncategorized)

It’s really hard to move more when it’s January in New England. Last week we had a storm that didn’t match up to the monumental ice storm before Christmas, but there was a lot of rain and light slush that all froze solid. The bottom of our driveway is a sheet of ice. I’ve fallen down twice just taking the dog out to pee, once on my hands and once (really hard) on my ass. And on New Year’s Eve I managed to wrench my bad ankle pretty badly in the snow because I couldn’t see where the sidewalk ended. So I haven’t been getting out much; I even canceled a counseling appointment because I would have basically had to ice skate over there.

In line with the resolution I was thinking of getting some exercise programs after a friend recommended Yoga Booty Ballet to me. And then I could move without risking a broken neck. I went to a community where I download movies. (HOMG YES I AM EVIL let’s get past that right now.) And there’s an offshoot community for just exercise videos, which is cool. Less cool: all the dieting and weight-loss talk. They’re having a “Twenty Pounds More Fabulous By Easter” challenge, which freaks me right the fuck out because more fabulous? Bitches, I am plenty fucking fabulous at 270.

– Which, tangent: I ended up getting officially weighed for the first time in a really long time last month. Mom hooked me up with her doctor’s office so I could get a refill prescription on my meds, and they didn’t have a file and they started one. Which meant weighing and age and blood pressure but, oddly, not my height. And it was a digital readout rather than the clanky old scales with the big metal things they move around, which was sort of cool. And now I have an official semi-recent number: 270. Fine by me, I guess. THE OTHER COOL THING is that I got my blood pressure checked and according to the nurse it was fine and dandy. That’s great, because the last time I had it checked it was rather high… but I was at school and stressed the fuck out over my entire life falling apart and living off terrible processed food. Score one for living at home, I guess. And now back to our story.

Anyway, I have a hard time reading all this weight-loss stuff as I go through looking for videos. I’ve been allying myself with fat acceptance (or Fat Acceptance if we wanna call it a movement) for over a year now, since I sent in my picture to the Shapely Prose BMI Project. And yet I still have thoughts of “wow I look so fat,” “life sure would be better if I weren’t so fat.” I think a lot less about dieting but I still have recurrent thoughts about magically being thinner. I don’t know if these videos are going to be all about the weight loss rather than just exercise: does it matter if my sculpted buns and ripping abs are under a nice cushiony layer of fat? Will I be able to get through these without wanting to scream and then go eat a bowl of cookie dough? We’ll see. If this doesn’t work I’m stealing my sister’s DDR mat and going to town with those.

Crap, I’m gonna have to buy a new sports bra.

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